The Gathering (DR) Page 8

  I took a deep breath and considered my words before speaking.

  "I'm sorry," I said.

  He tensed, waiting for more, waiting for the snap, the growl, the snarl. When I said he had his back up, I hadn't meant that as a skin-walker jab. But now, when I looked at him, it was an apt description. His back was up, at least metaphorically. Fur bristling. Eyes glittering. Lip curled. Ready to bite my head off. When I didn't respond in kind, he just sat there, tense and waiting.

  "I didn't know about you." I spoke the words carefully, trying not to sound defensive. "I should have explained that better. I only found out a week ago that I had a brother. Rafe's the one who told me, when he told me about being a skin-walker."

  Silence. Then, "Right." More silence. He shifted on the log. "Makes sense. It's not like she left a note with you."

  "No. She didn't. But . . . after Rafe told me, I felt . . . guilty, I think. That I didn't know about you. Like I should have remembered you."

  "We were only a few months old."

  I shrugged. "It feels as if I should have known. Like in stories where someone grows up feeling like something's missing, then they discover they had a twin."

  Silence.

  "When I found out, I did think of you. Maybe not as much as I should have. When I thought of you, I felt . . ." I searched for the right words. "I won't say jealous, because I don't remember our mother and mine is great--I wouldn't trade her for anything. But it hurt, growing up knowing I'd been abandoned. Finding out there'd been two of us and I wasn't the one she'd chosen? That really hurt."

  I sighed and stretched my legs. "I'm sorry. That was all I wanted to say. I didn't want to make excuses, which is what I'm doing." I looked over at him. "I am glad you came."

  He mumbled something and got to his feet. He walked away, and I wanted to go after him, but I knew it wasn't that easy. One little discussion wasn't going to make everything better. It wasn't just about him feeling hurt and me feeling hurt. We were brother and sister--twins--and yet we were strangers. If it wasn't for that blood tie, we'd probably have chosen to remain strangers. That hurt, too, but again, it couldn't be fixed with a few words.

  "You want dinner?" he said.

  I shook my head. "I should stay for the guys. If you could pick me up something, though, I'd appreciate that."

  I was quick to pull out a twenty, so he wouldn't think I was asking him to pay, but he still grumbled.

  "Or I can run out for something after you get back," I said.

  "I'm not bitching because you asked me to grab you food, Maya. 'Course I will. But you shouldn't stay here alone, not when it looks like they've nabbed your friends."

  That's what I'd been thinking, of course. What I'd been trying very, very hard not to think, because if I did, I'd slide into a full-blown panic. When Ash put that fear into words, I stiffened.

  He sighed. "Yeah, you don't want to hear that. I'm not trying to make you feel bad. But if the Cabals have your friends, they might have gotten them to tell where they could find you."

  "They wouldn't--"

  "Let me try that again. They might have gotten Corey to tell them. Daniel wouldn't rat you out unless they stuck red hot pins under his nails, and probably not even then."

  I glanced up at his face to see if he was being sarcastic. He wasn't.

  "You guys are tight," he said. "Friends or whatever. But while Corey might be a good and loyal friend, he's not made of the same stuff as you two. I'm not saying he's a coward or anything. He's just . . . They could talk him into it. Tell him lies and shit until he really thinks he's saving your life by helping them find you."

  Corey wouldn't be so quick to cave, but if they separated him from Daniel, he'd be uncertain, lost. He'd try hard to do the right thing, but eventually, they might be able to convince him that turning me in was the right thing. Especially if they knew I was with Ash. Corey hadn't trusted him. It wouldn't take much to convince him Ash was a traitor sent to turn me over to some even worse fate.

  "I can leave a note," I said. "We have a pen and paper in our bag."

  "Good. Just don't tell them where we're going."

  "Can I draw a map?"

  Now it was his turn to look over, to see if I was serious. I smiled and he shook his head, but I caught a hint of a return smile there before he told me to hurry it up.

  FIFTEEN

  THE CITY OF VANCOUVER is on a peninsula, bounded on three sides by water, so you usually need to cross a bridge to get from the suburbs to downtown. If you take the Lions Gate bridge--preferably not at rush hour--you drive through Stanley Park. That meant we had a pleasant evening stroll through the park to get downtown. Or I did. Ash seemed a lot more comfortable in the city proper.

  By the time we arrived downtown, night had fallen. That made Ash anxious, but it didn't bother me. It was downtown Vancouver. As long as we didn't stray into a few bad pockets, we were fine.

  I was wise enough to avoid suggesting sushi, but I did mention a falafel stand a few blocks away. From the look Ash gave me, that was just as bad. He wanted a burger. I knew a couple places that served amazing gourmet versions, including one just a block over that Daniel loved. But ten-dollar burgers were not on the budget, and even if I would have liked to treat Ash, he would have taken it the wrong way. So we settled for A&W.

  Afterward, as we walked, Ash said, "You mentioned buying a prepaid cell earlier."

  "Right."

  "We should do that. In case you and I get separated." He paused. "Or for your friends. Uh, when they get back."

  "You really think they were--" My chest tightened and I couldn't get the rest out.

  "If they were, we'll deal. For now, you need that phone."

  I peered down a street of closed shops and scattered bars. "It's a little late . . ."

  "Corner stores sell them these days. Just gotta find one."

  I wasn't sure that applied in Canada. We didn't have nearly as many cell providers as they did in the States. But I nodded and let him lead the way down the next street.

  We'd gone down four blocks and into two corner stores with no luck. I wanted to ask the clerks if they knew where to buy a phone, but Ash wouldn't let me near the counter. I suggested he ask. He just rolled his eyes, as if I was naive to think they'd be helpful.

  At the third store, a guy was outside talking to himself. Harmless, I was sure, but Ash insisted I go inside with him, though I had to wait by the door.

  I heard the drunk guys before I saw them. They were loud enough that feline hearing was not required. They stopped outside the store and peered in. I stepped out of their line of sight, but not before I got a look at them. College guys, wearing sports jerseys and sloppy grins. They slammed the door open hard enough to make the clerk wince.

  "Hey!" one yelled as he walked in--though the clerk wasn't more than a couple meters away. "We want beer. You got beer?"

  "We do not sell alcohol in these shops. You must go to a liquor store."

  In unison, two of them repeated the guy's words, exaggerating his accent. I shook my head. Tourists. There were a couple of provinces that sold alcohol in corner stores, but I was guessing these were Americans. Our lower drinking age is a draw. Which was not to say that all drunken louts are obviously American--only the ones who didn't realize they couldn't buy beer in any store.

  I'd moved back as far as I could without hiding, but when they took another step, they could see me.

  "I bet she knows where we can find beer," said the redhead in front. "Hey, cutie, make you a deal. Tell us where to find some and you can come drinking with us."

  "No, thank you," I said, straightening, so it wouldn't look like I was shrinking against the shelves.

  "What makes you think she'd know where to find booze?" Ash came around the counter, gaze fixed on the guys as he moved between me and them.

  I whispered for him to let it go, keeping my voice low enough that only he'd hear. He knew exactly why these guys thought I'd know where to find alcohol, but this really wasn't
the time for a lesson in racial stereotyping.

  Ash kept moving forward. Stalking forward, like a cat, eyes on his prey, muscles tight, almost gliding across the floor, smooth and silent. The guys just snickered and jostled each other.

  "Do you want a chocolate bar before we go?" I said to Ash. "I'm going to grab one."

  His head whipped my way, eyes narrowed in a "What the hell?" look. I was trying to diffuse the situation. Of course, he didn't see that. He probably thought I was standing there, being insulted, and honestly thinking, You know, I'd like some chocolate.

  "You go do that, cutie," the redhead said. "We'll get rid of your boyfriend for you."

  "I'm her brother," Ash said.

  "Oh? Good. So then you won't mind if I . . ." He suggested something we could do together. It wasn't "go see a movie." He got about halfway through before Ash took a swing at him. I was already mid-pounce and grabbed Ash's arm before it made contact. When I wrenched it back, he wheeled on me, lips curled in a snarl.

  "You want to fight?" I whispered under my breath. "Fine. But if you do, I'll need to run before the cops show up."

  He blinked and removed my hand from his arm. Then he nodded and rolled his shoulders. I could feel the rage pulsing off him. The drunk guys just stood there, snickering and lobbing insults. I zeroed in on the fourth guy, a blond who was hanging back, looking uncomfortable. I propelled Ash toward him, saying, "Excuse me," and he moved aside. I bustled Ash past before the others could block our escape.

  "Morons," Ash muttered as we reached the sidewalk.

  "Agreed," I said. "But picking a fight with them won't help."

  "So you just put up with that crap?"

  "No, I usually have a comeback, unless they're too drunk to get it, which those guys were. Now, let's put off buying a phone until morning and--"

  "Hey!" The corner store door banged behind us. "Did we say you two rez rats could leave?"

  "Keep walking," I murmured.

  "I am," he said, with a growl that told me it wasn't easy.

  "Hey, you. Half-breed. I'm talking to you."

  Ash slowed, tensing fast, and when I gripped his arm, I could feel the muscles bunching.

  "Keep walking, Ash," I whispered. "Please keep walking."

  "That's what I'm doing, isn't it?"

  "Yo! Half-breed. Bring your sister back here. We're not done with her yet. Hell, we haven't even started with her yet."

  Laughter from the others. I had Ash's arm in a vise grip now, practically dragging him along, his sneakers scraping the sidewalk, as if he was two seconds from wheeling and charging.

  "You shouldn't have to put up with that," he muttered as they called out suggestions behind us.

  "Every girl has to put up with that. It doesn't matter what color her skin is."

  Shoes clomped behind us, coming fast.

  "Yo, half-breed. Tell you what. You show us where we can get some beer, and we'll give you a whole case for your sister. That's a good trade, isn't it, kemosabe? I know you guys like to trade, and she's such a pretty little--"

  Ash spun and hit the redhead with an uppercut that sent him reeling. I grabbed his arm, but he shook me off. The other three thundered down the sidewalk as their leader recovered and swung at Ash. Ash ducked the blow and came back with a right hook that sent the guy spinning.

  "Run," he snarled over his shoulder at me. "Get out of here."

  That's what I'd threatened to do. That's what I should do. Even now, cars were slowing and a group of barhoppers were crossing the road to watch the entertainment.

  If it had been one guy, I'd have run. Clearly Ash could take care of himself against one guy. Maybe even two. But the other three were moving in and I knew no one had planned on a fair fight.

  As the redhead recovered, I leaped between him and Ash.

  "That's enough," I said. "You aren't going to find beer at this hour unless you go to a bar. There are plenty around. Now go find one."

  He shoved me out of the way. I lunged to grab him, but one of his friends caught me, yanked me off my feet, and threw me aside. I heard Ash snarl as I hit the ground. When I turned to scramble up, they were all piling on him. Rage filled me. I grabbed the back of the nearest one's jacket and heaved. He spun to backhand me, then stopped.

  "What the hell?"

  He knocked my hands off his jacket and stumbled from the heap, still staring. When he backed away, one of his friends glanced our way. He stared at me. Just stared. My hands flew to my face and I felt it shifting. I lowered my hands. Fur was sprouting on the backs.

  SIXTEEN

  "WHAT THE HELL?" THE guy said again, his voice rising.

  The others had stopped hitting Ash. He caught a glimpse of me and let out a curse. He pushed his attackers off, ran over, grabbed my wrist, and started hauling me along the sidewalk. The guys just stood there, staring.

  We nearly crashed into a couple stepping out of a restaurant. The man started to snap at us, then saw my face and yanked his wife aside.

  "You need to stop," Ash hissed. "Reverse it."

  "I'm trying." My voice was harsh, guttural as my vocal cords began to change. "But once it starts . . ."

  He swore and looked around. I saw a parking garage across the road.

  "There," I said, pointing, my fingers curving under.

  I moved as fast as I could, but my hips were changing, too, legs bowing. Ash hauled me into the parking garage. I made it around the first corner, then staggered to a shadowy gap between two SUVs.

  "Good," he said. "Get in there. I'll stand guard."

  He pushed me. My legs gave way and I crashed down.

  "Shit!" He swooped down to grab me. "I didn't mean to do that."

  I waved for him to move away.

  "Do you need anything? Can I do anything?"

  Just get out of the way so I can get my clothing off before I pass out. That was too much for my vocal cords to manage, so I just shook my head and waved him back again.

  Thankfully, I seemed to be getting more lead time before the passing-out part, and I managed to get mostly undressed before I hit the ground.

  I recovered better, too, not lying there, dazed and wondering what hit me. I stood and stretched, letting out a snarling yawn. Ash spun from his spot guarding the gap. He stared at me.

  "Maya?"

  Who else? I would have said, if I could, but I knew he wasn't questioning whether it was me, but whether it was really "me" or was I subsumed by the cat, which might lunge and sink its fangs into his neck at any moment.

  I chuffed.

  "Okay," he said, still gaping. "So that's . . . you look like a mountain lion. I mean, obviously, but I wasn't sure if we'd look like real mountain lions or some kind of monster. Definitely a cat."

  I stretched, head down, front paws out, hindquarters in the air. My tail flicked against one of the SUVs with a thump.

  "You're bigger than I expected," he said.

  I shot out the claws on my extended front paws.

  He chuckled. "Nice."

  I retracted my claws and settled on the pavement, head on my front paws.

  "Yeah, I guess that's about all we can do." He lowered himself. "Sit and wait for you to shift back."

  I chuffed. And so we waited. It could take awhile, but we were tucked back deep enough that cars passed without their drivers catching sight of us.

  Then, "You! What're you doing there?"

  Loafers slapped the pavement, the daintier click of high heels hurrying to catch up. Ash got to his feet and leaned out.

  "Yes, you," the man's voice said. "Between the cars. What the hell are you doing?"

  "Parking," Ash said.

  "Right. Your car? Or one you jacked?"

  "Bill," a woman's voice murmured, cutting him off. "Don't."

  The man grumbled. "You just better hope it wasn't my truck you were breaking into, boy."

  "This yours here?"

  Ash thumped the SUV on the right. It was a light thump, just enough to let me know that I need
ed to get under the other vehicle. But the guy shouted, as if Ash had bashed it with a sledgehammer.

  "Bill!"

  There was no time to crawl under either SUV. The man was right there. Ash blocked, but he wasn't nearly large enough to hide the tawny big cat crouched on the dark pavement.

  "Jesus!" the man said. "It's a cougar."

  "It's okay," Ash said quickly. "She's just scared. I was getting a better look--making sure she wasn't hurt. She's fine, and if we all just leave her alone, she'll find her way out."

  "Find her way out?" the woman exclaimed. "That's--that's a cougar. In the city. Bill! Get back from there." She pulled out her phone. "I'm calling 911."

  "No, wait," her husband cut in before Ash could. "Get a picture first. Hold on. I'll get closer. I want to be in it."

  "Bill! It's a cougar!"

  "Stop shrieking. It's an overgrown cat."

  Ash froze, torn between stopping him and stopping the woman from calling the police. The man brushed past him. I swallowed a growl and forced myself to stay perfectly still. If he wanted an overgrown cat, that's what I'd be. Let him get his photo. Convince his wife I wasn't a threat. I hoped Ash could persuade them to leave afterward.

  "See, Sue? Just a big kitty. You're a pretty kitty, aren't you? A big, pretty kitty cat." He kept inching forward. "Get the camera ready, Sue."

  Every instinct told me to run. Cat instincts. Wild animal instincts. But I was still human. I didn't need to surrender to those. So I slitted my eyes and forced myself to stay still while this idiot approached a 120-pound cougar with his hand out, ready to scratch it behind the ears.

  Wild animal attacks on humans are rare, but of all the predators in Canada, the cougar may be the one most likely to do it. Obviously, this guy never got the memo. After this, he'd probably be going to zoos, climbing the enclosure, saying, "Here, watch this. . . ." Famous last words, as yet another unfit human is removed from the gene pool.

  His wife had gone silent, clutching her phone as she watched. Ash's chin bobbed, nodding encouragement to me. Just get through this. Let him pat me. Let him get his damned photo and leave.

  "Nice kitty," he said. "Such a nice kitty. Sue? Are you ready?"

  His wife hesitated, then lifted the phone for a picture. He glanced back at her.

  "Good. We're going to get the photo of a lifetime. Bill Wilson taking down a cougar bare-handed."